


Desperate

by dyingpoet



Series: Sprace one shots [5]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Touch-Starved, Trust Issues, i love spot he needs affection, sprace, you can pry this headcanon from my cold dead hands yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 23:46:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13669830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyingpoet/pseuds/dyingpoet
Summary: Spot is touch starved, Race tries to help





	Desperate

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this between chapters of my longer fic, writers block is a bitch :)

The first time, Race let it go. Brushed it off as catching Spot off guard, continued on with his day.

The second time though, he didn’t.

“Why’d you flinch?”

Spot looked up at Race for a half second, quickly casting his eyes back down and fiddling with the strings on his hoodie. “Didn’t.”

“Bullshit?” The lie threw Race off, Spot never lied, not to him. “I don’t care or anything, just askin’?”

He made to touch Spot’s shoulder, slower this time. The muscles in Spot’s shoulder tensed a bit, but he didn’t flinch. It sort of hurt Race a little, he’d never hurt Spot, never hit him or anything. He didn’t get it.

Spot looked thrown off, sort of curled into himself on the couch instead of splaying out like he would have normally.

“I just, ain’t used to it,” he mumbled, quietly enough that Race barely caught it.

Race sat up and frowned, “What? Me touchin’ you?”

“Well don’t put it like that,” Spot snapped, a light blush dusting his face. Said blush darkened when Race smirked and reached for his hands, tugging Spot a bit closer to him on the couch.

“I don’t gotta as much if you don’t want me to.”

He started rubbing circles with his thumbs on the back of Spot’s hands, relieved when he felt them relax, going almost limp in Race’s hands.

“No, it’s not that, I,” he bit his lip and looked down,” It’s just, it’s not bad okay? Flinchin’ is just reflex, you can keep doin’ it if you want.”

Race nodded, that was as close as he was going to get to Spot admitting he liked it. He dropped it after that, turning on their TV and starting the arduous process of picking out something to watch.

By the end of the night he had Spot laying against his chest with Race’s arms wrapped around his middle. It was nice, and he pretended not to notice the way Spot leaned into him the longer they laid there.

* * *

 

The next time time Spot flinched was about a week later.

They had opted to stay in instead of going out with Jack and Davey like they’d planned. The next week was their anniversary and they were trying to save up so they could go somewhere nice.

“I’m sor-”

“Not your fault,” Spot cut him off.

Race looked down awkwardly at the small space between them. He by no means wanted to make Spot feel bad, it wasn’t his fault at all, and from what Race could tell he actually did like touch. The Brooklyn newsies weren’t about that stuff though, and Spot had gotten used to Brooklyn.

Race wasn’t Brooklyn.

“C’mon,” he breathed, clearly catching Spot off guard. The other boy looked up at him curiously.

“What?”

Race took his hand slowly and walked over to the couch, Spot following slowly despite being tugged. “Let’s watch something okay?”

“You really don’t hav-”

Race pushed him lightly down into the couch, protest dying on Spot’s lips as Race curled up beside him and turned on the TV.

“Don’t have to what? Watch TV? What else are we gonna do Spotty?”

Race looked up as he flicked through the channels. He could see Spot smiling just enough that is was genuine, could feel him relax against Race’s side little by little.

Once they decided on what to watch, _Top Gun_ , they fell into a comfortable silence. Race was focused a hell of a lot more on Spot than the movie, and after a few minutes he could feel their breathing synchronize.

He wouldn’t bring it up, Spot pretended that he didn’t like cute stuff like that, but it made him happy.

With Spot warm against him and the soft sound of the TV playing Race felt himself start to drift off every now and then.

“You keep doing that.”

“Doin’ what?” Race asked through a yawn.

“Jerkin’ your head up when you fall asleep, you don’t have to stay awake.”

Race looked up to meet Spot’s eyes, “I wanna.”

Spot snorted. “Wanna bet? Just go to sleep Race, it’s late, I probably will soon anyways.”

Any response Race might have had was cut off with another yawn, followed by a pointed look from Spot.

Reluctantly, Race let his eyes close and body relax fully. If he had to say it was probably a solid ten seconds before he passed out.

* * *

 

A yawn woke Race up.

He opened his eyes slowly, the light from the TV forced them back shut for a second before he tried again. The rest of the room was dark, and he was definitely on his side because everything was tilted. Letting his eyes adjust, Race pulled the blanket, he didn’t remember having a blanket before? But, he pulled it closer to him and stretched out his legs a bit.

He looked and up almost laughed, or cried, a combination of the two really.

Spot had at some point moved Race onto his lap and had both hands wrapped securely around his waist. Apparently his protectiveness overpowered his awkwardness with touch, or it was because Race had been unconscious, but he took it as a win either way.

So, he stirred a bit to get comfortable.

Immediately, he felt Spot tense underneath him. “You awake?”

The note of nervousness in his voice was clear, but Race dropped it. “Yeah, just woke up.”

“We can move if you wa-”

“Nope,” Race said, “Pretty comfy right now.” To emphasize, he buried his head deeper into the blanket, and subsequently into Spot’s side.

Spot chuckled, relaxing a little bit. “Well good for you, but I gotta move a little if I wanna fall asleep.”

With more care than anyone would have suspected of someone Spot’s size, he picked Race up and shifted them so that Race was on Spot’s chest, and Spot was lying horizontally on the couch.

“This okay?”

Race was almost out by the time Spot asked. He could feel Spot’s heartbeat and he was warm and so _tired_.

“Mhm.”

He felt Spot’s chest move as he laughed, arms moving to wrap around Race. “‘Night Tony.”

“Night Sean,” he murmured.

* * *

 

They woke up the next morning in a tangle of limbs. Spot’s back was killing him and Race had slept better than he had in years. Sort of a mixed bag, but they fell asleep the same way more times than they would have liked to admit

And Race was quick to remind Spot that he loved it. And even though he usually got a punch to the arm and a glare afterward, it was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this!! Leave kudos/comments if you did!!


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